I have an idea for a side hustle. It’s a cleaning business focused exclusively on clearing bad juju and actual germs from people’s houses after severe and highly contagious seasonal illness has swept through. It involves smudging every inch of the place with sage, dousing it in essential oils, and simultaneously running an air purifier, space heater, noisemaker, and aromatherapy diffuser. The last and perhaps most important ingredient is bleach. So much bleach.
I have quite a bit of practice in the process, thanks to the last few weeks, and am a marketing pro, so I think this thing could be big. The only problem is, no fucking way am I going anywhere near a House of Norovirus again.
What’s Norovirus, you ask? Well let me counter that question with a question. Have you heard of the Black Plague? Wiped out half of Great Britain in the 1600s? Similar vibe.
The best is when you get hit with it smack in the middle of a head cold! Seriously, highly recommend if you’re into self-flagellation as like, a spiritual technique.
As I ironically wrote about just the week before I got the sickness (clearly a jinx), I have clinical emetophobia. The constant sickness around here is really turning me into a Howard Hughes type. I’ve always had a touch of the OCD anyway, but at this point, I basically walk around with a spray bottle of bleach in my hand and wash with antibacterial soap (I know I know, I don’t want to hear it) 40-50 times a day. I am not exaggerating, sadly. I won’t even let my toothbrush fraternize with anyone else’s toothbrush anymore. It has its own home, now, and I won’t share my toothpaste either.
I knew the girls would start getting sick by virtue of starting preschool in the dead of winter. But to be fair, this plague started before the first day of school, when Eliza fell ill first. I have no idea where she got it, except that now I am an expert on Norovirus, thanks to the Google, and know that you are actually contagious for TWO WEEKS AFTER you start feeling better. You can also get sick from like 11 viral particles or something — for context, enough particles fit on the head of a pin to sicken 1,000 people. Thanks, Google. Now I can never sleep again.
I even broke down and bought Lysol for the first time in my life. I have no idea what Lysol is and I don’t want to know. All I want to know is that it kills this thing.
We’ve been working on mottos around here. Eliza’s motto is Be Careful after she broke a glass of milk by carelessly knocking it off the counter, then moments later, felled a plant in a terra cotta pot. Phoebe’s motto is Brave Potty. We’re working on getting her over her fear of peeing at school.
My new motto is More Bleach.
